Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: SHOP (01/03/19)
TITLE: Baking a Cake
By Laury Hubrich
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“Dean, what are you doing?”
I should know this person. She looks familiar. “I’m baking a cake. A chocolate cake. When it’s done, I’ll share with you.” I don’t know where I came up with that. I heard it somewhere but I grin like it’s original.
She yelled at me. “You’re not baking a cake. You would burn the house down.” She looks like she’s mad but then I read fear. “Never use the oven, okay?” Yes, fear.
“No oven, Mom.” Mom? What? No, she can’t be my mom. I look into her eyes. Those eyes I remember. But as soon as I feel that remembrance - I hear a voice. Not the same voice. This one is a man and it’s bidding me to follow. I’m transported through time and space. I feel the air moving. It’s breath-taking. I take big gulps – trying to absorb all I can.
“I whisper. “Who are you?”
The air is stirred again. Fresh. Aromatic. It doesn’t matter to me who it is anymore. I look around and see row after row of aisles. I’m in some sort of store. On further inspection, I notice all the shelves are filled with plastic tubs with my name and dates. With fresh energy, I run to the beginning and read, “Dean. 1945. Entered into the world.” I pull out the box and see me. My parents. My brothers and sisters. I suck in my breath and sob. I miss them so much. It’s overwhelming so I push it back.
A handsome football player peeks at me from another box. “Hoopeston High School Cornjerkers. Good times.”
A wind gust pushes me along to 1962. I pull out the file and a picture falls onto the floor. I bend down and pick it up. Those eyes. My wife. That’s who that worried woman was. My wife.
Another picture shows a little girl sitting in a front church pew. “I was student preaching. Lucy... you sat in a lot of random churches listening to me. Lucy!” I snap my fingers. Lucy is my oldest daughter. She was just at our house. I searched my mind for hours trying to remember who she was. She looks so different. No wonder it’s hard to remember. “I love you, Lucy. I’m so sorry.”
“What am I doing here?” I question the voice.
“You have one hour to decide on a memory you want to keep forever. No matter what. It will always be there even though it seems like you’re lost in yourself. You will be remembering. This is your gift for your faithfulness to Me.”
I fall to my knees. “Father!”
“I love you, Son.”
Tears flow down my face. I take in the great expanse of room. One memory from all of this? Where do I begin? How will I choose?
I pick up random memories and soak each up. I laugh. Cry. Gasp. Snort.
After an hour, Abba comes to me for my decision.
“No question,” I say confidently. “I choose You, Abba. I never want to forget You.”
Suddenly, I’m whisked back home.
Lucy comes and sits beside me. “Dad, remember when….” And I do. We all talk for hours.
And then I feel that gentle pull again. I know I’m drifting away from Lucy. From my wife. But I'm not scared.
He scoops me up in His arms like I’m a child again. Pure happiness.
Author's Note: My prayer for my dad as he is traveling down this scary road of Alzheimer's - even as he drifts away from all of us, he will always remember and run to His Abba Father. Unafraid. I can't see the screen anymore because of the tears. Such a good daddy. Such a good Daddy.
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